Harriet Monroe, ed. (1860–1936). The New Poetry: An Anthology. 1917.
MirageEufina C. Tompkins
A
These three things petition me;
Neighborly close, and mine, all mine:
The cabin covered with eglantine,
Cow dark red with white spots over,
Up to her knees in honey clover;
Apple-tree with a bird’s nest in,
Made where the sunlight faeries spin
Silks for shade and cover.
“Oh, yes—
You hear the cries of the street in stress,
And a saffron guard with a traffic star
Clutches and holds you where you are,
Or you would be in a pretty mess
Under a motor-car!”
Tumbling down from her closet shelf,
Packing her fardel of things forgot
Saving me whether I will or not:
Bed-posts standing foot and head,
Roof-tree hiding the still white cry
Of a midnight moon that is going by,
Warding away the eerie spell
From the windows close where the dreamers lie;
While the velvet tread
Of the Dark comes soft to the mimic dead,
And sweet as a sigh of Israfel.”
In the market-place when the world is there?
What can one do to save her soul
When without summons the films unroll?
Cherry red of the milken kine,
An apple-tree, and in its crest
A robin’s song and a robin’s nest….